


All's Well

by kiyala



Category: FreakAngels
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-08
Updated: 2011-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk has a day off. He spends it with Karl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All's Well

“ _10am and all’s well. It’s going to be beautiful day_.”

Karl looks up from his strawberries, turning his gaze not towards his wind-up radio, but up at the watchtower. The walls are too high for him to really see anything, but he’s smiling anyway.

There’d been a smile in Kirk’s voice, too.

It definitely is a beautiful morning; the sun is high in the sky and there are no clouds to be seen. The air is fresh, his plants are watered, and Karl is in a good mood.

There’s a tin of tea leaves that he has stored in his cupboard. He grows them in a corner of the rooftop garden, picks and dries them himself; not enough to drink tea as often as he’d like, but it’s better than nothing. He climbs down the ladder, waving at Jack on the street, no doubt leaving Sirkka’s house and returning to his boat.

It’s dark inside the house and he takes his goggles off, readjusting his hat and going downstairs, to the kitchen. His tin of tea is small and round, sitting in the back corner of his cupboard. He takes the entire thing up with him, the metal smooth and cool in his hand. He sets a pot of water boiling, back on the roof, turning to the basket of fruit he’s picked. He’s sliced everything by the time his water’s finished boiling and he’s just about to open the box of tea leaves when he hears the sound of shoes on the wooden floor.

He spins, spread into a defensive stance, but relaxes the moment he sees who it is.

“Kirk.”

Kirk is grinning, a plastic bag hanging by his side. “That stupid tinfoil hat of yours makes it too easy to surprise you.”

“Yeah, right.” The only way Kirk would have gotten down from the tower without him noticing is by climbing down when Karl was inside. To get to the market and back so soon, he’d have to walk very fast. “Sit down, you idiot. I’ll make you a cuppa.”

“Connor’s up at the tower, making himself useful,” Kirk says, leaning back in his chair and stretching. “I'm relieving him at ten, tomorrow morning. And he'll actually leave my stuff alone. Not like KK.”

Karl grins, setting a cup down on the table. “You’ve got the whole day off, eh?”

“Thought that maybe we could start with breakfast.” Kirk takes a loaf of bread out of his bag. “They never let me pay. Picked up the jam from the kitchen on my way up, too.”

There’s precisely one person in whatever’s left of the world who can get away with going through Karl’s things. If Kirk’s smile is any indication, he’s well aware of it.

They set the table together and with the bread and jam, there's enough food for two. Tearing the load of bread in half, Kirk hands a piece across the table. Karl reaches out for it, their fingers brushing against each other, and he lets the touch linger for a moment.

“I haven’t seen you for two weeks.”

There’s a soft look in Kirk’s eyes, but he knows better than to apologise. They simply do what they must, and hope that it can somehow make up for what they’ve done. Two weeks is a long time, but Kirk is here now. They have time together. All’s well.

Their conversation is light and casual as they finish eating and wash the dishes in a bucket of soap water, each brush of their hands deliberate, fingers briefly linking around every fork and cup they pass between each other.

“I’d like to go for a walk,” Kirk says, in the silence that follows when Karl turns the tap off. “Every time I come down from the tower, I forget how different it is to walk between the buildings, instead of looking at them all spread out in front of me.”

“Lead the way, then,” Karl replies. “If you get us lost, I’m kicking your arse.”

Kirk grins. “Like that’s even possible, here.”

They climb down the ladder, leaving the tea and jam in the kitchen before walking out into the street. There are far more buildings than people in Whitechapel, falling apart and held together in a haphazard mess. Most of the people can be found living close to one another, needing the reassurance that comes from constant company. Karl doesn’t understand it, and he doubts Kirk does either. Even without their self-imposed solitude, on a watchtower, on a rooftop garden, they both prefer something quieter.

So it’s not surprising when Kirk leads them past the busier parts of town and further out, towards the very outskirts, where the streets are still and silent. Kirk reaches out silently, his hand seeking Karl’s. Their fingers entwine, thumbs gently stroking each other, and there’s no need for words.

Kirk places his free hand on Karl’s shoulder, and smiles when Karl’s hand settles on his hip. “You know, if you didn’t wear that damn tinfoil hat all the time, at least we’d be able to talk when I’m up on the tower.”

Karl snorts quietly, knowing full well that Kirk isn’t being serious. If there’s anyone who understands his desire for peace and quiet, it’s Kirk. Karl slides his hand up the smooth plane of Kirk’s back, bringing him close enough for their lips to brush against each other. Kirk smiles, his grip on Karl’s shoulder tightening as they kiss again, deeper this time.

Kirk’s sunglasses, perched atop his head, bump against the brim of Karl’s hat, but it doesn’t matter. This moment is theirs, and they savour it with all they have.

They take a winding path through the empty streets, walking side by side and talking as often as not. After some time, Karl’s thoughts keep returning to his garden and despite the tinfoil hat, Kirk must notice because he starts leading them back.

Karl gives him a grateful look when they’re back in the house and once they’ve climbed onto the roof, he takes off both the tinfoil hat and the broad-rimmed hat that hides it. Kirk smiles, wide and pleased.

_Hey, you._

The others are white noise at the back of Karl’s mind, but he can tune them out, thanks to plenty of practice. Kirk’s voice is loud and clear. Karl’s smile is more reserved, projecting his own thoughts to Kirk.

_Hey yourself. There’s a nice, sunny patch over here if you want to sit._

The wood is warm beneath them when they sit down on it, leaning back to back. Neither of them are the type to cuddle and even if they were, they wouldn’t do it out here, in plain sight. This is an even better alternative, the press of their shoulder blades against each other just as intimate as a kiss.

“Tell me about your plants,” Kirk murmurs, and Karl laughs quietly.

“You just want me to bore you to sleep.”

Kirk tips his head back so it’s resting against the back of Karl’s. “Whatever. Just keep talking.”

So Karl does, about anything that comes to mind. He talks about his garden; about the changes he’s made, about what he’s planning for it and how he’ll need to carry down baskets full of vegetable down to the markets soon. He talks until he feels Kirk relaxing completely against him, his polite hums becoming less frequent as his breathing gets deeper.

“Hey. Are you asleep?” Karl asks, and there is no reply. He smiles, his own eyelids growing heavy. “Good.”

Later, Karl knows, Kirk will grumble about having to wake up. He’ll bitch and moan until Karl agrees to let them both sleep a little longer. Later still, they might even wake up lying on the floor, curled around each other, hands touching and foreheads resting against one another.

But that’s later. They have an entire day, and they’ll take it as it comes.

This is just Kirk and Karl, and all’s well. It’s shaping up to be a beautiful day.


End file.
